Seven Women
by JettLawrence
Summary: After a large financial disaster results in general collapse, the U.S. is now a dangerous place as the government scrambles to protect the elite at all costs. Seven women band together to survive against all odds amid a police state, led by a brilliant and beautiful woman. AU. Possible Crossover later. (All critiques/reviews welcome as I am trying to become a better writer).


Glass crunched under heavy leather boots. Farther up the leg, pants stained with the wear and tear of what God only knew, moved slowly in and out of shadows. In front, blistered hands held a tactical shotgun, a 12ga that in simpler times would have been in pristine condition. It had already been loaded. The 20 inch barrel was the first to duck in and out of the light that crept through holes and cracks in the walls. Dirt, sweat, and grime formed an edge around the mask, with a filter that had long met the expiration date. Sharp brown eyes flashed beneath moisture ridden lenses, in step with the light that hit them. The intensity of silence added to the already pungent surroundings, ripe with decay and a beauty that was nowhere to be found.

The figure was female, but without close scrutiny it would have been impossible to tell. Crouched for a moment, she placed the shotgun between her legs to free her hands. The jacket was removed and beneath it was a soiled tank-top that had at one time been white. She used it to wipe the excess of sweat and grime from the neck where dirt had accumulated in the creases. A soiled sports bra peeked beneath the dingy garment. For a moment, she rested her head against the barrel of the gun. Strands of dirty brown hair stuck to the ventilation in the barrel as she labored to catch her breath. Her body was thin to the point of exhaustion; hunger had long been replaced by fatigue.

She slowly stood up and made way to the back of the structure, passing a hallway where several dead bodies lay. The smell was overpowering as decay flooded every sense. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth, but the taste of rot still lingered in the back of her palate. For a moment she thought she saw movement in the corner of her eye. As she slowly turned, she realized a rat was feeding on one of the corpses. Dinner, she mused.

Continuing the slow and methodical crawl to the back of the structure, it seemed time stopped. It was excruciating to know that instead of nameless soldiers she might find her friend mangled and lifeless. A feeling of indescribable nausea hit her. The rotted surroundings mixed with the heat of the summer months proved almost too much to handle. The dirt suddenly felt sticky and the accumulation of moisture forced a bead to roll down the inside of the lens. She felt her inside convulse into an involuntary heave, she squatted down and closed her eyes. Her eyes burned as she forced herself to think of anything besides where she was. She settled on the thought of how bleach smelled. Yes, she imagined a bleach cannon that she would use to cover every rotting corpse. Slowly her body calmed, now was not the time to throw up. Her pulse beat against matted hair. The sound of silence was broken by the low hiss of wet breath through the mask.

She continued to make her way to the back room, where the door was slightly ajar. She poked the end of the barrel through and used her shoulder to push it the rest of the way. The room appeared to be a bedroom and she found several dead bodies that found their final resting place. She crept into the room and studied the bodies that occupied the space. None of them belonged to her friend. For a moment she was both relieved and frustrated. A noise in the hallway caused her to jerk to the side and hide behind the door. Quiet footsteps could be heard down the hallway and stopped just short of the entrance.

At a distance the woman seemed calm, although her heart pounded in measured leaps beneath her chest that had measured intakes of breath. Even her breath seemed at a standstill as she waited for any sound indicating who was in this house. Slowly the door opened and a young teen of around 13 or 14 looked around the room-one hand was held tightly against her mouth in defense of the smell.

"Don't move." Quickly the woman moved from behind the door and stuck the end of the barrel in the youth's back. At once she noticed the large wound on the young woman's other arm. Unsurprisingly the girl screamed from shock.

"QUIET!" moving to face her, she whispered "quiet!"

The young woman obeyed as her captor moved past her in silent motions, peeling the window covering back slightly to look outside. A tank drove past on the road outside, a soldier stopped at the front of the house and looked around curiously. Slowly she let the curtain fall back to the original position.

"We have to hide" she whispered.

Pulling the covers up, the girl crawled under the bed first. The older one grabbed one of the bodies and pulled it in front of the bed. At the foot she crawled under as well. The smell of rotting flesh was the farthest from her mind at that moment, as was the smell of bleach. Quietly she reached out until she felt the girl pressed near, whom she tried to calm.

"Whatever happens, don't scream." She whispered and the girl nodded as hot silent tears pooled at the tragus before falling to the floor. She quietly moved the gun and held it like a baby, faced toward the direction of the body.

Footsteps could be felt on the floor, slowly pulled along by what sounded to be a dog. The animal rooted around the room until it focused on the corpse that had been pulled against the bed.

The soldier crouched but it was for impossible to tell what was looked at. The small window between where the corpse' arm would have rest against the body held an image of camouflage that swayed to an unidentified melody of movement.

After a few minutes the footsteps diminished quietly into the distance. The woman turned around and squeezed the hand of the youth, only to realize she had passed out.


End file.
